


Don't Speak

by pacifichaze



Category: Wings of Fire - Tui T. Sutherland
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, I describe Arctic's death and its not pretty, but nothing TOO horribly graphic? i think??, dont read if you have a sensitive stomach basically, ha ha... stomach... sorry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-09
Updated: 2018-11-11
Packaged: 2019-08-20 23:30:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16565192
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pacifichaze/pseuds/pacifichaze
Summary: Arctic shows us what he's really like on the inside, and Clearsight is pissed.





	1. Chapter 29: Darkstalker

**Author's Note:**

> What's up, please read this beforehand
> 
> I originally planned this to be a long AU about what would've happened if Darkstalker WASN'T too far gone. What if there was still hope for him? What if he could have fought the power-hungry side of him and instead was able to reach the bright future he and Clearsight wanted so badly? Darkstalker: Legends made me soooo incredibly sad. It's a fantastic book, but after I finished it I was depressed for WEEKS lol and so I wanted to write them a better ending. It would have diverged from canon mid-chapter 29 and I wanted to build a new story from there. However it's actually... very hard to redeem Darkstalker after everything he's done. I thought I could salvage his character after he killed Arctic but then I was like... what about Indigo. What about the earrings. What about all the other horrible hidden spells he cast without anyone else's knowledge? How could I POSSIBLY redeem someone like that?
> 
> That, plus my loss of interest, caused me to abandon this fic. I got to 3.5 chapters and almost 12,000 words, but I still liked what I had written so I'm putting this out there for others to read. I'm considering putting chapter 2 up as well, if there's enough interest for it. Chapter 2 is from Clearsight's POV and it deals with the aftermath of this shitshow.
> 
> as for this chapter, a couple things have changed from canon  
> 1\. clearsight stays with whiteout, doesn't take Dark's scroll  
> 2\. darkstalker has a bit more of a consciousness. +2% empathy. +1% guilt. 
> 
> anyway lemme know what u think! honestly I still may pick this back up in the future... I'm just not sure yet. I liked where I was going with this and I had plans for future chapters but ARGH Darkstalker is just such a difficult character to deal with LM

“Now,” Darkstalker rumbled, piercing the wood under him with his claws. His heart fluttered with a strange, malevolent excitement. “Take your talons, rip open your stomach, and show us all what you’re really like on the inside. Pour out your life onto this stage.”

Blood flowed out of Arctic’s mouth, as blue as a bubbling stream. His eyes, wide with horrified disbelief, were fixed on his severed tongue which now rested on the wood in front of him. With jerky, puppet-like movements, he sat up, exposing his belly to the crowd, and made a long, sharp slice through his abdomen. A shriek rose in his throat, but he didn’t stop.

Somewhere in the crowd, a young NightWing wailed. The dragons closest to the stage had slowly started to back up, terrified but unable to look away. On the outskirts of the crowd, Darkstalker was aware of some dragons fleeing.

A strong, metallic scent wafted through the air, blanketing them under a hazy atmosphere of death and decay. Again and again, the IceWing ex-prince cut into himself; through scales, through skin, through fat and muscle. He rasped out sharp cries of pain through the wetness of his throat, and he gagged as he swallowed the blood that welled up in his mouth.

“Be silent,” Darkstalker ordered sharply, and the noises abruptly cut off. He didn’t want this ordeal to be soiled by the pathetic whining of a traitor. He would gain no pleasure from hearing his father sing his death song. Frankly, he would be happy to never hear Arctic’s voice again, after everything he’s done… getting Foeslayer killed, kidnapping Whiteout, and plotting to betray--

_ Whiteout. _

A cloud of fog seemed to lift from his mind and his head shot up. At the back of the stage, as far away from him as they could get, Clearsight was holding her. His sister had her face buried in Clearsight’s chest, while Clearsight rested her head on Whiteout’s shoulder. They were both crying.

Guilt and indecision wormed its way into his brain, and he forced himself to take a step back. He left Arctic to his work and made his way over to them. As he approached, a sharp pain echoed through his skull. Whiteout’s tortured thoughts howled sharp and high, searing like hot flames on ice-cold scales.

_ Ow.   _ He tried blocking them, but they shrieked louder and louder. A sharp pang of regret started to press in around him, but he shook it away.  _ I can’t think like this. What was I thinking? She shouldn’t be here. _

“Clearsight,” he barked. She jumped, startled, and stared at him with wild eyes.  _ What does she think of me right now?  _ The way she was looking at him… she was clearly scared of him. He didn’t like that at all. He took a deep breath and said as calmly as he could, “please take Whiteout home.”

Something sparked behind her eyes, but he didn’t understand it. She stood up shakily, wiped the tears from her eyes, and heaved Whiteout to her feet. A moment later they were off, taking their chance to escape while they still could.

He turned back to Arctic. Sticky blue blood stained the stage and dripped onto the concrete ground of the Great Diamond below. His father was still at it, carving into himself, seeming incredibly eager to show the tribe what the bowels of an IceWing looked like.

They were white, by the way.

A long time passed. Any other dragon would be dead by now, he realized with a flash of impatience. They would have passed out from pain or blood loss long before this stage. Under the possession of his spell, Arctic’s only priority was to tear himself apart-- dying wasn’t much of an option for him. He caught his father’s eye, and for once, he didn’t see hatred in him. He saw pleading. He’d never seen Arctic beg before. It made Darkstalker feel slightly sick.

A vision crawled through his mind, and he saw himself in his twisted crown, all too familiar by now. He sat on his throne and watched with a bored expression as five of his subjects howled in agony, gouging out their eyes with their own claws. He’d seen this vision long ago, in Clearsight’s mind, before he’d given her the moonstone bracelet. He’d dismissed it back then, thinking it was so unlikely it wasn’t worth worrying about. It wasn’t him, he’d thought.

_ So why am I having this vision now? _

The answer lay before him, self-mutilating and weakening rapidly. He shook himself, trying to remember every cruel remark Arctic had made toward his mother, or every cold glare he had swept over Darkstalker when he was too young to even understand why.

_ I refuse to feel bad about this. _

His crowd wasn’t much of an audience anymore. He could count on two talons the amount of dragons still watching, transfixed with morbid curiosity and a deeper fear that if they ran, he’d hunt them down and kill them next. The rest of the dragons had let their flight response take over and were already gone.

He lashed his tail in frustration. They were supposed to  _ stay  _ and  _ watch.  _ They were supposed to celebrate this victory, as the tribe’s most dangerous traitor fell before him in the ultimate display of submission and repentance.  As he glowered over the remaining dragons, each of them caught his eye, and he saw their survival instincts finally kick in. One by one, they scampered away. He was alone.

Beside him, Arctic continued to feebly scratch at himself, still presenting his belly to the empty crowd. It was honestly starting to feel a little creepy. At one point, he slipped on his own blood and banged his chin on the sticky wood. For a moment he didn’t move, and Darkstalker thought that might be it for him, but he slowly got up and mindlessly began clawing at himself again.

He growled to himself and thought,  _ alright. I’ve had enough of this. _

“Fall over and die already,” he snapped. Immediately, Arctic’s claws stilled and the IceWing collapsed on the stage with a  _ thud.  _ As he went down, Darkstalker briefly picked up a rush of relief and then silence from his mind.

It was finally over. His whole life had been leading up to this moment. He’d spent countless nights lying in bed, dreaming of his perfect future-- the future without Arctic. The future where he and his friends were safe, where no one would dare hurt them anymore. That future was  _ here. _ It was now. Not even the queen would try anything against him. She knew she couldn’t kill him, but he could kill her with barely a thought. He felt her mind jittering nervously in her room up in the palace. She’d seen the whole thing.

_ Why aren’t I happy? _

_ I should kill the queen. Now’s my chance, before Clearsight can talk me out of it. _

His mind flicked back to Clearsight huddling with Whiteout on the stage. She had been protecting her-- from him!  _ She doesn’t need to be protected from  _ me, he thought with a flash of outrage.  _ I saved her!  _ I’m  _ the good guy here. _

His father’s innards, slippery and wet at his feet, seemed to be telling a different story. Lifeless eyes still glared accusations at him. Even in death, he couldn’t escape Arctic’s judgemental gaze.

He leaped off the stage with a disgusted snort. This was supposed to be one of the better moments in his life, and he was alone. Even worse, his mind kept replaying Whiteout’s mental cries of anguish, over and over and over again.

_ Arghhh, WHY didn’t I make her leave BEFORE I started this? I should have sent her home straight away. _

He felt the guilt creeping back in, and this time he couldn’t stop it. He thought back to when they were very young, when he distracted her from their parents’ non-stop arguing by hiding things around the house for her to find, or taking her flying, or just holding her the way Clearsight had.  _ He  _ used to play the role of protector.

He tried to convince himself that he had just forgotten about her, but the truth was that in the moment he really didn’t care who he traumatized with his vengeance. He’d just wanted other dragons to watch Arctic die. Even Whiteout.

_ I'll fix that later. _

He started his way to the palace, to Vigilance, then hesitated.  _ Why am I having doubts about this? This is the best thing. I  _ know  _ this is the path to the brightest future. _

Another flash manifested behind his eyes. The guttural screams of dying NightWings echoed all around him, mocking him and sending another sliver of doubt through his brain. He let out a frustrated growl.

_ I need to check on Whiteout. I need to talk to Clearsight. _

Trails of blue stickiness followed him as he made his decision, turning away from the palace.

_ I need to wash this blood off my claws. _


	2. Chapter 30: Clearsight

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided to put up this chapter after all, just because I feel like it at least gives somewhat of a resolution to the last chapter. Unsure if I'll put up the next couple chapters that I wrote, considering I'm not all that satisfied with them as of right now. May edit them later. We'll see

Clearsight pumped her wings hard, trying to ignore the yowls of fright that were fading into the distance as she fled the square with Whiteout at her side. The morning sun was slowly rising over the mountains, and her whole body ached from their long, desperate two-way flight across the Kingdom of Sand.

Her heart thudded in her chest, and she almost gave in to the fear that screamed at her to take Whiteout and get as far away from Darkstalker as she could. He was much more dangerous than she had previously thought. She didn’t know where his need for blood and violence would end.

Oh, she had a few ideas. In one future, it never stopped. He would go on to kill the queen, then her most loyal subjects, then anyone who opposed him, and finally, anyone who ever accidentally had a bad thought about him. She didn’t see herself in that future.

Along another timeline, he would kill the queen and be satisfied, but the rest of the tribe would become puppets and slaves that never questioned him… or  _ couldn’t  _ question him. In this future, she was at his side, but she wasn’t herself. She sat next to him, nodding and smiling sweetly while he discussed expanding the kingdom to include the rainforest, and then the marshes of the Mud Kingdom.

Both those futures were equally likely. There was no way to know what event would lead to which timeline, not unless she found a moment to study them further-- a moment she didn't have.

There were still others, some much worse and some not so terrible. She could still see their dragonets, although they were faint, and she could hardly see their faces anymore. Her heart ached for them.

Whiteout banked sharply to the right, and Clearsight realized they were at Darkstalker’s house already. She hovered in the air for a moment, considering whether it would be best to stop here or to leave the Night Kingdom to the dust. Both dragons were exhausted. She could see that Darkstalker would just track them down anyway, so when Whiteout opened the front door and slid inside, she made her choice. The threads rippled softly in her skull as her decision settled and set off small changes to the paths up ahead.

Once they were inside, she stood blinking while she waited for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. She heard Whiteout’s rapid breathing somewhere nearby, and soon she saw her crouching on the sofa next to the scroll rack. Tears still streamed down her face, but she was silent, and Clearsight crossed the room to put a reassuring wing over her back.

“Oh, Whiteout,” she murmured. “I’m so sorry you had to see that.” She tried to imagine how she would feel if she had to watch her own father brutally mutilate himself, and she felt a flash of anger toward Darkstalker. What had happened to him? The  _ old  _ him would never have let his sister witness such savagery.

Whiteout shifted next to Clearsight and made a low keening noise. After a moment, she whispered, “It burns. Clearsight, it burns and it’s freezing and it won’t stop.”

Startled, Clearsight took her wing away. “What do you mean?” Was Whiteout feeling what Arctic is feeling right now? But how?

Whiteout sat up, trembling. “I don’t know what it is, but I know it burns, and it’s so,  _ so  _ cold. When Darkstalker gets back, check for snow, but don’t scrape the ice from his eyes.”

_ I have no idea what that means,  _ Clearsight thought. She remembered a conversation with Darkstalker long ago; he said he suspected that Whiteout might have the same moon-given powers that he had, even though she hatched a day late. He thought that maybe some of the energy from the brightest night lingered in the atmosphere and she was gifted prophecy, or mind reading, or even both, but he was never able to get a definite answer to his theory.

Clearsight stayed with Whiteout on the couch, catching her in an embrace and not letting go. After a while, the tears stopped, and she felt the older dragon slowly relax in her arms. They talked for awhile, but the conversation was awkward and jerky, and sometimes neither of them could make sense of the other. Even so, Clearsight was glad for the comfort of Whiteout’s wings against hers, and Whiteout seemed to appreciate her as well.

Her eye caught on the family painting above the fireplace. It hurt her to know that two of the dragons in the beautiful artwork were now lost forever, possibly three. She didn’t want to think of the future where Whiteout was the only one left, but it lingered behind her eyes, challenging her to look at it in full. She had a feeling she was the one who would set that timeline into motion.

Clearsight didn’t know how long they had been waiting when Whiteout tensed and abruptly threw her off. Surprised, Clearsight tumbled to the floor, and then she turned and saw Darkstalker in the doorway. His scales were clean for a dragon who had just been involved in such a gruesome display, and she guessed he must have washed himself off in one of the lakes or rivers before showing up here. How decent of him, she thought bitterly.

His expression wasn’t nearly as malicious as she had expected, but he still had a strange glint in his eyes that made her uncomfortable. She hated that she couldn’t read his gaze like she used to-- she had no idea what he was feeling.

“Whiteout, are you alright?” he asked, stepping inside and closing the door behind him. “Your mind… hurts.”

“It does hurt,” Whiteout said slowly. Every muscle in her body was taut with tension, and she eyed him warily. “But your eyes are much worse off than my brain.”

He padded closer and Whiteout let out a fierce hiss, flaring her wings. Clearsight flinched back, surprised by her sudden aggression.

“Do not come any closer, bringer of destruction!” Whiteout cried. “I am willing to converse with you from a distance, but you float much too high off the ground for my liking. I advise you not to come any closer lest you want to feel my teeth!”

Darkstalker paused, his gaze drifting to Clearsight. She stared back at him, and although he was making her nervous, her initial fear of him was starting to ebb. This was still the dragon she’d spent the last two years with. She knew this dragon, loved him, even despite everything that had happened in the last couple of months. It was important for him to know she was not going to flop belly up and let him get away with what he'd just done. She stood up a little taller.

He dragged his gaze back to Whiteout and said, “I’m not a bringer of destruction. If anything, I'm a bringer of justice. I know you may not agree with me, but Arctic needed to die. I'm sorry if this hurts you, but I believe we will all have a better life now that he is out of the picture.”

He approached the couch and extended a wing to put around his sister's shoulder. She let out a yowl and lunged at him.

“Whiteout!” Clearsight yelped.

Whiteout rammed against him, knocking him over, and sunk her teeth into his ear. He let out a grunt as her claws raked down his chest, and then she spun around and escaped to her room, slamming the door behind her.

“What..?” Darkstalker clammered to his feet and shook himself. He was uninjured, of course, with his invulnerable scales and whatever other protective spells he had on him, but his eyes were hurt and confused. He looked at Clearsight and said, “she’s never done anything like  _ that  _ before.”

“She did warn you to stay away, and you didn't listen,” she pointed out. In a harsher tone, she added, “and considering what you just let her witness, I'd say that was a pretty appropriate response.”

“I should go talk to her. I think she'll feel better if I just explain exactly why this needed to happen.” He started toward her room, but Clearsight blocked his path.

“Oh, no, you won't!” she snapped. “She doesn't  _ want  _ to see you. And you have a lot of explaining to do. You've made a huge mess of things, you know that?”

He glared back at her. “Maybe it's a mess, but it needed to happen.  _ You _ know that.”

“I know that what Arctic did was wrong, and I'm not objecting to his death. Traitors are traitors and should be dealt with accordingly. What I have a  _ problem  _ with is the way you decided to go about it. Due punishment is one thing, torture is a whole different story. And don't even get me started on the whole mind control issue.” He stood his ground, glowering at her defiantly, and she went on. “I hope all this was worth it. There’s not one dragon in the tribe that’s not afraid of you in some way. I hope that when you’re king of all of Pyrrhia, all alone with no friends by your side, you’ll look back on this day and have no regrets, because this is all you’ll have.”

He flicked his tail dismissively. “I'll have friends. I'll have you, and Fathom, and Whiteout. That's all I need.”

She let her silence speak for her as her mind flashed through all the futures where he ruled the tribe, bitter and alone. His eyes glazed over slightly as he ran through the same timelines, and she watched as his expression changed. Suddenly he was animated, looking slightly manic as he went off on a tangent, speaking quickly and intensely.

“ _Listen,_ Clearsight.” He started to pace the room. “All I want is for us all to be happy. That's why I do the things I do. Whiteout and I could never be truly happy with Arctic hanging over our heads all the time. She certainly wouldn't be happy in the Ice Kingdom. As for you, well…” he hesitated, then went on. “The earrings. I know you're upset about that. But you spend _way too much_ _time_ worrying about the future. It's not good for you. I wanted you to be able to relax, okay? That's all. Don't be mad at me for that.”

Oh, she  _ was  _ mad at him about that. She was even more annoyed that he was trying to pretend it was a harmless little gift intended to make her feel better. She knew the truth as well as he did-- he gave her the earrings to make it easier for him to do what he wanted without her standing in his way. Well, if he wanted to play dumb, then fine. She'll bite.

“If you truly believe the earrings were purely for my own sake, then you have a  _ lot  _ of self-reflecting to do, because you're so deep in your own denial it's seriously concerning. I'm not exaggerating when I say those earrings were one of the  _ worst  _ things to ever happen to me. Putting them on me was wrong, and manipulative, and I'm not sure I can ever trust you again.” He looked a little upset at that, but she wasn't done. “I'm more unhappy as a result of the earrings than I ever was before I had them. I can't even trust my own powers anymore. Do you not understand how terrifying and debilitating that is? And the worst part is, I have no way of knowing if I'm under another spell. The visions that I have right now could be all wrong and I wouldn't even know. How is  _ that  _ supposed to make me happy?”

As she spoke, his gaze travelled downward until he was staring at the floor with an unreadable expression, his tail snaking back and forth across the ground in agitation. Long moments passed, and when he looked into her eyes again, she saw genuine regret, and he said, “I'm sorry.”

The timelines flickered as new threads were born.

He went on. “I never wanted you to doubt your own powers. I just wanted to push the darker paths away, so you could focus on our brightest futures, when we're married with our dragonets. But I'm sorry that I made you unhappy. I promise I won’t enchant you again.”

Clearsight sat back, thoroughly surprised. In most of the futures she saw, he refused to acknowledge his wrongdoings and continued to argue with her until she got frustrated and left. She didn't expect him to apologize so quickly, and with so much sincerity. It gave her a little shimmer of hope.

She stepped closer to him and brushed her wing against his. He relaxed a little. “Well,” she said. “Thank you for apologizing. I'm happy that you're able to recognize that what you did was wrong. There are not a lot of futures left where you're still able to do that.”

He made a face at her. Clearly he disagreed.

“Do you forgive me, then?” he asked. “About the earrings?”

She thought for a moment, and shook her head. “No. I can’t forgive you just yet. What you did was too terrible, and… you’ve done such  _ awful  _ things lately. The lies, the manipulation, casting mind control spells. Plotting to steal the throne. The  _ torture _ . I’ve always seen futures where you’re callous and barbaric, but I never expected you to actually turn out this way. I thought you were better than that.”

“I’m  _ fine,  _ Clearsight. Yes, there’s been some bloodshed, but we’re almost done. Once I kill Vigilance, it’ll be over. I promise. After that, it’ll be nothing but peace and prosperity forever. The end justifies the means, right?”

“No!” Clearsight hissed. “Darkstalker, no more violence. No more killing. I will never support you if you become king.” She made an effort to ignore the threads where she  _ did  _ support him. “If you take the throne, I’m taking Whiteout and Fathom and I’m leaving the Night Kingdom.”

He gave her a puzzled look. “But why? I would never hurt you three.”

A vision flashed before her. Inside a cave on an unfamiliar mountainside, her copper wire bracelet lay in the dust at their feet. Darkstalker held a dagger in his talons, tears streaming down his face. His eyes glittered with a tortured self-righteousness, and he advanced on her, striking her in the chest. She collapsed, and darkness enfolded her.

She shook her head, pushing the vision away. That one wasn’t very likely, but it still rattled her. Squaring her shoulders, she looked him in the eye. “Because you would be a  _ terrible  _ king. There is not one future where I see you as a good and benevolent leader. You’re far too ambitious. You will never stop wanting things. Your greed will spiral and spiral and no one will ever be able to stop you.”

“But…” he paused, a distant look in his eyes. “But  _ I  _ can see futures where I am a good king.”

“Good for you, maybe,” she said bitterly. “What about me? Am I happy in these futures?”

Another pause, and then, “In some of them, yes.”

“Strange. Because the only futures that I can see where I am happy with you as king are the ones where I’m under a spell.”

He grimaced and a flicker of shame spread across his face. She hissed again. “You  _ just  _ promised me you wouldn’t enchant me!”

“Well I haven’t done it yet!” he said quickly. “And I probably won’t.”

“You will,” she said. “If you become king, you will. I can see it clearly. I know you can see it too.”

He gave in. “You’re right,” he said ruefully. “I know you’re right. I can see the futures where I’m horrible, too. But we can avoid that, right? As long as we’re careful.”

“ _ Very  _ careful.” She sighed and brushed her tail down his flank. “What happened today really messed things up, but it’s not too late. We still have options. There’s still hope for us. I love you, Darkstalker, and I  _ want  _ to make this work, but that will never happen if you’re king. That’s just the truth.”

“But if I don’t take the throne, that just opens up a whole new set of problems for us,” he argued. “The queen is not too happy with either of us right now. You’re supposed to be locked up in her prison. I’m supposed to be dead. If I don’t take the throne, no one else will, because none of her daughters are ready to challenge her yet, and then what? There’s no way we’ll be able to live peacefully in the Night Kingdom, not after…everything.”

Clearsight bit back the retort that it was  _ his  _ fault they were in this predicament in the first place. There was no changing that now.

“We’ll figure it out,” she said instead. “I don’t see any futures where she arrests us today, but tomorrow…. Well. We’ll figure it out. Darkstalker. Promise me you won’t take the throne.”

He closed his eyes and let out a long sigh. When he opened them, Clearsight saw his reluctance as clear as day, but he took her talon in his and said, “Okay. I won’t take it… for now. I mean, I  _ want _ to, but if it means you leave me and take all my friends with you, then I guess I can’t, huh?” He grinned at her, trying to joke.

In her mind, a million timelines shifted. The dark paths were still there, looming and sinister, but the good ones shone a little more brightly. She could see their daughters’ faces a little more clearly.

She sank into him with a sigh of relief. He wrapped his wings around her and she closed her eyes. There was still hope for them. They might be okay after all.


End file.
